


there's nothing that i wouldn't do

by the_one_that_fell



Series: omgcp tumblr prompts [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 08:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7353385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_one_that_fell/pseuds/the_one_that_fell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you mean you bought every pie in the bakery?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's nothing that i wouldn't do

**Author's Note:**

> For the tumblr prompt: _Bitty is working at a restaurant/bakery and he loves it but there's one coworker who is SO LAZY and does everything half assed but criticizes everything bitty does and is super passive aggressively rude and sarcastic and bitty is The Better Person and Does Not Engage but it sucks and eventually coworker gets their comeuppance and it's great (based on my life right now and what I wish would happen lol) oh and Jack is there too because zimbits = life obviously_
> 
> Originally posted on Tumblr [here.](http://eve-baird.tumblr.com/post/146067822257/prompt-bitty-is-working-at-a-restaurantbakery) Unedited, but thought I'd share.

“What do you mean you bought every pie in the bakery?”

Shitty was staring at him, slack-jawed, struck silent for perhaps the first time in his life. Ransom and Holster looked equally dumbfounded, but also kept inching closer and closer to the kitchen counter where dozens of pies sat, each smelling more heavenly than the last.

Jack cleared his throat, eyes cast down at his shoes. “Well, um…It’s hard to explain…”

“Oh, dude,” Ransom said, eyes alight with repressed laughter. “Please enlighten us. I’m dying to know.” Holster nodded, surreptitiously pulling out a knife and several forks from Jack’s cutlery drawer.

Jack sighed. “Okay, so you remember last weekend?”

* * *

 

It was Friday night and the gang was gathered at their usual bar. Jack didn’t drink much, not after the incident at the draft in ‘09. (The overdose, he forced himself to think. Just because you don’t say the word doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.) But this bar was relatively quiet most nights, drawing an older crowd looking to drink fancy beer and unwind with friends.  Jack had been nursing the same porter for two hours now, while Shitty, Ransom, and Holster were all on their third and fourth pints. The world seemed soft and warm and all Jack could hear was laughter and happy chatter. It was a good night.

Then Jack saw him across the room. Eric, the baker who opened up Good Harvest Bakery every morning, was at this bar, right now, twenty feet away from Jack. It was a lot to process. Jack felt like his brain was short-circuiting.

Eric - “Please, my friends call me Bitty,” he’d said one morning as Jack tried to make awkward small talk. “Eric is my father.”  - was at a table with friends, waving his hands animatedly as he told a story. The girl across from him was cackling, and the ginger kid next to her wiped away tears of laughter. Jack felt an overwhelming urge to be at that table, to laugh at Bitty’s story and memorize the smile on Bitty’s face without feeling like a total creeper, get it together Zimmermann-

“Brah, you’ve been staring at those people for, like, ten minutes. Do you know them?” Shitty asked, nudging Jack in the ribs.

“Um, no?”

Ransom and Holster stopped whatever they were talking about, twin looks of imminent chirping on their faces. “Bro,” Holster said. “You totally do.”

“My money’s on the tiny blonde,” Ransom said with a smirk. He gave Jack a pointed look. “We all know your type, Zimmermann.”

Jack’s face suddenly felt very warm. “I’m gonna get another beer,” he said, standing abruptly. Shitty snorted.

“You haven’t even finished this one,” he said. Jack shoved it to the middle of the table, where Holster snatched it up immediately, and headed to the bar.

Which, of course, meant he was suddenly next to Bitty’s table as he waited for his beer. In true Hockey Robot fashion, he avoided Bitty’s eyes in a desperate attempt to not completely and totally embarrass himself.

* * *

 

He’d first met Bitty at Good Harvest twenty minutes after opening. The place was empty, except for the employees, but they boasted hot coffee and were located equidistant from Jack’s apartment and the hockey rink, so Jack slunk in one morning, barely awake. Bitty was in the process of cutting up samples for the day while one of his co-workers slumped against the counter and texted.

“Mornin’,” Bitty had said when he noticed Jack, flashing him a sunny smile. “What can I getcha today?”

“Coffee,” Jack had replied, voice still gruff with sleep. He was still getting used to his new medication, and while it made sleeping easier, it made waking up so much harder than it used to be.

“That all?” Bitty asked with a teasing grin. “Because I can recommend about five different coffee shops in the area.”

Jack huffed with laughter. “I’m not much a pastry person,” he said, glancing at the display case in front of him. “But I’m out of bread at home. Do you have whole wheat?”

Bitty hummed as he poured coffee into a styrofoam cup. “Cream and sugar?” He asked. Jack shook his head. “Well, we’ve got a multigrain that is - in my opinion - to die for. And I’m not usually one for grainy breads.”

“That sounds good,” Jack said, taking the coffee with a smile. “I’ll take a loaf of that as well.”

(He didn’t realize it at the time, but that bread was good, and he used it for his pre-game PB&J the following week and got a hatty. Jack didn’t consider himself any more superstitious than your average NHL player, but he quickly began including that multigrain bread into his pre-game ritual. He still wasn’t sure if that was because he was hoping for another hat trick or because he wanted an excuse to see Bitty every week.)

“Perfect,” Bitty said. “Matt, could you wrap up a loaf of the multigrain while I ring him up?”

Matt sighed dramatically and slinked off to one of the back shelves. Bitty’s jaw visibly clenched, but he didn’t stop smiling sweetly at Jack.

By the time Matt returned with a sloppily-wrapped loaf of bread, Jack had paid and was learning Bitty’s life story. He was a Georgia boy, born and raised, had been a figure skater, then a hockey player - be still Jack’s heart - then he’d come up here and gotten this job and one day hoped to open his own bakery. Jack noticed that he skipped over why he’d left Georgia, but didn’t pry.

“You look familiar,” Bitty said as he dropped the bread into a paper sack and neatly creased the top. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Oh, um.” Jack paused. “Providence isn’t that big, you’ve probably just seen me around.”

Bitty grinned. “Oh, I think I’d remember seeing you.”

Flirting! That was flirting, right? Damn, he really needed Shitty in situations like this-

“Jack,” he said, sticking out his hand. Bitty grinned wider and shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

“Well, then, Jack,” Bitty said, glancing up at him from under his eyelashes almost shyly. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

* * *

 

“Ugh, and he’s so condescending, you know?” Bitty was saying, waving his wine glass around wildly. A little slopped onto the table, but he kept going. “Like, ‘Bittle, you have to let the cookies cool for twenty minutes before you put them on the shelf - like, no shit dumbass, I’ve been baking longer than you’ve been sentient you miserable cretin.”

If Jack had to guess, he’d wager that Bitty was talking about Matt. The kid was always there in the mornings when Jack dropped by for his coffee and bread and he drove Jack crazy. He rolled his eyes at everything Bitty said, was always texting instead of helping, and - this made Jack the angriest of all - criticized everything Bitty did, from wiping down a counter to sprinkling sugar on top of cooling cookies to the way he pronounced pecan. It was infuriating, but Bitty never snapped back, never stopped smiling. It was a trait Jack was both jealous of and attracted to.

“Gosh, listen to me,” Bitty said, setting down his glass. “I must sound so ungrateful! I love my job! I’d just love it more if a certain someone got hit by a bus.”

“Do you want us to talk to him?” A tall, gangly kid with braces asked. “Because we can. He sounds like a jerk.”

“Aww, honey,” Bitty said, patting the kid on his alcohol-flushed cheek. “I really don’t need three hockey players intimidating my co-worker in some shady alley.”

“Bro,” a third guy said, leaning across the table. “Let us help you. This dude needs to chill.”

“I’ll punch him in the face for you,” the ginger one said. “Seriously. I will.”

The woman across from Bitty frowned. “Seriously, Bits, you should talk to your manager. This guy needs to shape up or get out.”

Bitty sighed. “It’s not that big of a deal, honest. I just wish he’d respect me a little more? Like, I work so hard on my baking, if he could just see-”

“He’s probably jealous,” the woman said. “He gets stuck doing all the boring shit ‘cause you’re so good at the fun baking stuff. Haters gonna hate, hate, hate.”

This startled a laugh out of Bitty, a warm, light sound that made Jack’s toes curl. The bartender looked at Jack expectantly,  but Jack couldn’t bring himself to order.

Bitty ran a hand through his hair and sang, “Bakers gonna bake, bake, bake.”

Jack all but ran back to his table, empty-handed, a half-baked plan in his head. When he reached the boys, he slammed his hands down on the table and stared Shitty directly in the eyes.

“Shitty, remember that one time I did that thing for you that we don’t talk about ever and after you promised me one huge favor with no questions asked?”

Shitty raised an eyebrow. “Sure do. Why?”

Jack took a deep breath and said, “I’m cashing that in. Now.”

* * *

 

“So, that’s why I had to ask Blondie what baked goods he was proud of?” Shitty asked, incredulous. “So you could go buy up every single pie he’d made?”

“Um.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes?”

There was a moment of silence, then three huge bros were on the ground in hysterics, laughing to the point of tears.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann,” Shitty choked out. “You precious, Canadian ding-dong. I love you, man. I love you so much.”

“Dude!” Holster shouted. “Is this how you woo people? You buy all their pies?”

“That’s beautiful, man,” Ransom said, clutching at his stomach. “That’s the most fucking romantic thing I think you’ve ever done.”

“I just want him to feel appreciated,” Jack mumbled, staring at his shoes. “He takes pride in his work.”

“Oh, Jack,” Shitty said, pulling Jack into a tight side-hug. “Oh, you beautiful Siberian Husky of love. You’re so pure. So innocent.”

“Go to him, Jack,” Holster said, gripping his shoulder. “Confess your love.”

“Or,” Ransom added. “Maybe ask him on a date first.”

Jack nodded, confidence welling up in his chest. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” He headed to the door, forgetting that his friends were at his apartment to hang out with him.

“Make good choices!” Holster yelled. The door slammed shut, and the three of them looked at each other.

“So…” Shitty said, gesturing to the kitchen. “Pie-eating contest?”

Ransom and Holster grinned. “You’re on!”

* * *

 

Bitty was waiting for Jack outside Good Harvest when Jack arrived. Jack had a sneaking suspicion that Shitty had gotten his phone number that night at the bar and had texted him that Jack was running to the bakery like a love-struck idiot who had no idea when Bitty got off of work. Which. Okay, fair.

“So I hear you’re the one who bought up all my pies,” Bitty said in lieu of a greeting. Jack shoved his hands into his pockets, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the pavement.

“Yeah, I- I just wanted to do something nice- I heard you at the bar, complaining about your co-worker-”

Bitty held up a hand to stop Jack’s rambling, but his shy smile calmed the storm of anxiety that was brewing in Jack’s chest. “I have to say, I’m not sure what you hoped to accomplish by doing that, but it was certainly a sweet gesture.”

Jack shrugged, eyes downcast. “I thought maybe it’d make the guy respect you more if he saw how popular your stuff was.”

When he looked up, Bitty was biting his lip, shaking with silent laughter. “That’s actually the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” he said, grinning widely. “It didn’t work-” Jack’s heart sank. “-because that guy is a jackass, but I restocked the pies you bought so quickly that it really impressed my boss, so, um, thanks?” Bitty shrugged, blushing a little, giving Jack that same shy smile he had when he flirted-

“Do you want to get some coffee?” Jack asked abruptly. Bitty raised an eyebrow.

“Does it have to be here?” He asked.

Jack grinned. “No. I believe you once told me you could recommend five different coffee shops in the area…?”

Bitty laughed, and Jack knew in that moment he wanted to be the one to make Bitty laugh for the rest of his life. “There’s this cute little place a couple blocks away, Annie’s. Did you want to go now-?”

“Yes.” Jack cleared his throat. “I mean. Yes.”

Tentatively, Bitty took Jack’s elbow, tucking himself against Jack’s side. He was small, but warm and solid, and he smelled faintly of flour and cinnamon. “Lead the way, Mr. Zimmermann.”

Jack raised an eyebrow and Bitty blushed. “So you did recognize me,” he said as they started walking.

“Eventually.” Bitty shrugged. “First player to come out in the NHL, that’s a big deal. Also, my friends are obsessed with your dad.”

Jack huffed out a laugh. “But not you?”

Bitty’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Well, Bad Bob doesn’t come into my shop and flirt with me every week, does he? Let’s just say I have my own NHL crushes.”

They rounded the corner, grinning at each other dumbly, when Bitty paused and asked, “What did you do with all that pie? Please tell me all my work isn’t going to waste.”

Jack simply laughed. “I left it all alone with three former hockey players. Trust me, it’s currently being well appreciated.”


End file.
